


Be Anything You Want Me To Be

by epeolatry



Series: Revolutions in My Mind (Revolutions in Your Bed) [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Relationship, Dom/sub, Hand Jobs, M/M, Praise Kink, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 17:57:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epeolatry/pseuds/epeolatry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras completely gets off on controlling Grantaire, oh okay, um... Grantaire is not complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Anything You Want Me To Be

_“Get inside and take your clothes off.”_

 

* * *

 

Grantaire bolted from the car, pausing at the communal door of the squalid block of flats only to check that Enjolras was behind him. He was, and they all but ran up the three flights of stairs to his apartment. Enjolras barely registered the fact that Grantaire simply opened the door, not having to unlock it as it was never locked in the first place, before it was slammed behind them and he had Grantaire shoved up against it, their mouths clashing in a desperate, sloppy kiss.

 

He had both of Grantaire’s wrists pinned at the artist’s sides, their hips pressed flush together as their tongues fought for dominance, Grantaire giving in almost immediately with a simpering groan. Enjolras wanted to tear the other boy apart with his teeth, wanted to hold him down and make him whimper his name over and over again, wanted to see just how far he could take this… It was dizzyingly new and unexpected and _so hot_.

 

He broke the kiss with a low growl in Grantaire’s ear, “Clothes. Now.”

Grantaire’s t-shirt was over his head and both of his shoes kicked off before he faltered slightly and said, “Éponine could be home any minute…”

 

Again Enjolras heard the words before he had time to think them, his tone harsh and foreign to himself as he barked, “Strip!”

 

Grantaire’s jaw fell slack and his eyes glazed over as he scrambled to obey, all thoughts of dissent fled entirely at Enjolras’ brook-no-arguments tone.

 

Within a minute he was standing naked in the sparsely furnished living room, his chest taking shuddery breaths and his cock fully hard and standing up proudly. Enjolras was momentarily jolted out of his role when he realised that this was the first time he had ever seen Grantaire fully nude. He’d had his penis in the man’s mouth for god’s sake, and watched him jerk himself off a number of times, but somehow he’d neglected the simple sight of his boyfriend sans clothing.

 

Enjolras devoured it, his eyes roving hungrily over every inch of Grantaire’s tattooed body. He was shorter than Enjolras, stockier, his coarse, black body hair more prominent, but he was nowhere near as unattractive as he constantly made himself out to be… Enjolras drank in the broad, strong shoulders; the chest, all pale skin covered in ink and sparse black hairs; his arms toned from years of throwing punches and wielding paintbrushes; the stomach, a small belly but overall much less prominent than Enjolras would normally expect in someone who drank so much, but then again Grantaire did spend a lot of time sparring with Bahorel in the gym…

 

As Enjolras’ eyes travelled further downward he noticed Grantaire beginning to shift uncomfortably from foot to foot; it hit him how awkward this must be for the other boy, and he was about to apologise and look chastely away when he remembered that this was what Grantaire had asked for – to be dominated. So instead he turned on a smirk and slunk towards his naked lover murmuring, “What’s the matter? Isn’t this what you wanted? To have your choices taken away, to be used, to be completely exposed to me and subject to my most arbitrary whims?”

 

Enjolras knew without a shadow of a doubt that had his cock been capable of such a short refractory period he would be just as hard as Grantaire was; he tried not to feel too guilty about the psychological implications of this. As it was his skin was already flushed and his breath was coming in short huffs.

 

Grantaire too seemed to be having trouble keeping his breathing even and he had subconsciously clasped his hands behind his back in his accustomed way which provoked entirely too many images of scarves and ties and ropes and handcuffs… Another time.

 

“Good boy,” smiled Enjolras as he circled Grantaire once, predatorily, his own cock twitching weakly in his trousers as Grantaire’s leaked against his stomach.

 

“What a good boy to trust me like this. I’ve been very remiss in not doing this sooner… You have such a wonderful body. Not just your cock, or your clever hands, or that wonderful slutty mouth, all of you - look at you!”

 

Grantaire was blushing and staring determinedly at the floor; Enjolras knew that he hated hearing these things, eschewed all forms of praise, and spoke solely in self-deprecating terms, but he wanted Grantaire to hear this from him, hear the truth in his voice and see the sincerity in his eyes.

 

“Look at me.”

 

Grantaire’s green eyes shot up obediently, but he wore a cringing expression, so Enjolras tried a different tack.

 

“Look at me when I tell you how beautiful you are. You don’t believe it? Are you calling me a liar? Are you questioning my judgement, or my good taste? Maybe you don’t think that I deserve the best? Well let me tell you, slut, I’ve had the best of everything all my life and I’m certainly not going to settle for second best now!”

 

Grantaire whimpered minutely as Enjolras circled him again and ghosted fingertips over the juts of his hip bones from behind, then sharply pulled him backwards so their hips were flush, Enjolras’ crotch pressed tightly between Grantaire’s bare ass cheeks, rough denim grazing against hot skin. He rolled his hips forward while anchoring Grantaire in place with his hands, his grip painfully tight and allowing no movement to the other boy.

 

“I’m going to let you touch yourself,” he purred into Grantaire’s ear as the artist’s hips bucked back to meet him, “But not until I hear you say it.”

 

Enjolras gently took one of Grantaire’s crossed hands and wrapped it around his boyfriend’s straining cock, using his own long digits to envelope the callused fingers around the shaft and guiding him into stroking himself. Grantaire moaned as they both worked his long-neglected cock together, Enjolras’ touch limited to the paint-stained skin on the back of Grantaire’s right hand but still enough to thrill after he had spent so long feeling so keyed up. Grantaire arched into the touch but Enjolras kept their strokes maddeningly slow and light, refusing to allow Grantaire any real relief until he did as he was told.

 

“You don’t settle for second best!” gasped the artist with a pained expression, “You don’t settle- god, _please_ Enjolras!”

 

“What else?” goaded Enjolras quietly, speeding up their hands an infinitesimal amount and sucking lightly on the skin where Grantaire’s shoulder met his neck.

 

“You- you- for fuck sake, you have excellent taste! _Please_ Enjolras, I need more! Your taste in fucktoys is fucking impeccable, now please just let me come!”

 

Enjolras was momentarily taken aback by the word ‘fucktoy’ – it was not one he’d ever heard before, but the bluntness and obscenity of it, coupled with the implications of ownership, shifted the stir of interest in his groin to hot, immediate arousal.

 

“Say it,” he growled, rolling his hips into Grantaire again to press his hardening cock against his whimpering boyfriend, “ _Say it_.”

 

“You- you,” stammered Grantaire hoarsely, grinding back against Enjolras while simultaneously trying to fuck into their joined fists, “I’m your beautiful slut! There, I said it, now please for the love of cock _let me come!_ ”

 

Enjolras considered for a moment; he could have done without the ‘slut’ part, but in essence Grantaire had said what he’d wanted to hear. They could work on the delivery another time.

 

“Yes you are,” whispered Enjolras, squeezing Grantaire’s hand tightly before letting go, giving permission for him to finish himself off.

 

Enjolras was surprised at how quickly Grantaire came after that; usually handjobs weren’t enough stimulation for him to climax so immediately, especially with no lubrication, but the added element of Enjolras bullying him while he was fully clothed and Grantaire was naked seemed to have had a very stimulating effect indeed.

 

He came over his own hand with a choked-off yell of, “ _Fuck!_ ” his ass still pressed against the crotch of Enjolras’ jeans, which were beginning to tent hopefully. Enjolras held Grantaire throughout, sucking and biting at his neck and shoulders, feeling his shuddering breaths normalise as he came down from his high.

 

“ _That_ ,” muttered Grantaire eventually, slumping backwards so that most of his body weight was supported by Enjolras, “Did not go the way I was expecting it to.”

 

“Was it okay?” asked Enjolras, suddenly nervous again, but reassuring himself that as Grantaire had come so quickly and so hard it had been adequate at least.

 

“Um, you realise that I have a fistful of my own jizz here, right? It was definitely better than okay, it was just… Different to what I was expecting. Better,” he quickly added, “Everything with you is better. Like you said, nothing but the best for _Monsieur_ Enjolras,” he teased with a grin.

 

“Hmph,” snorted Enjolras; he regretted alluding so pompously to his pampered upbringing during sex, but at least it had got Grantaire to admit somewhat to his own worth.

 

“Well right now I think the best thing would be for you to take a nap. I can’t hold you up forever you know.”

 

Grantaire laughed and twisted around so they were pressed chest to chest, bare skin against t-shirt, and he gave Enjolras’ crotch a quick rub with his clean hand, saying in a sultry voice, “Is this your way of getting me into bed, _Monsieur?_ ”

 

Enjolras pushed him away with an affectionate roll of his eyes, “Haven’t you had enough for this afternoon? Go clean yourself up.”

 

“Enough of you? Never!” Grantaire grinned cheekily before sauntering down the hall to the bathroom, intentionally swaying his hips as he went, all shame seemingly disappeared in the afterglow of orgasm.

 

He emerged a few minutes later smelling of soap and wearing a pair of black boxer shorts. Enjolras had already settled himself on the lumpy sofa and was immersed in one of the law books that recently had begun scattering themselves around Grantaire and Éponine’s apartment. Grantaire wordlessly climbed onto the couch and laid his head gladly in his boyfriend’s lap, humming contentedly as long scholar’s fingers carded through his dark curls.

 

By the time Éponine arrived home Grantaire was fast asleep. She nonchalantly lifted his feet, flopped down at the opposite end of the couch to Enjolras, then laid her flatmate’s legs across her lap without him stirring once.

 

“Are you staying the night?” Éponine asked, stroking the hair on Grantaire’s legs in such a casually intimate way that Enjolras was sure he would have been jealous were she anyone else.

 

The arrangement between Éponine and Grantaire was a strange one, and it had taken a lot of reassurances from both parties before Enjolras was entirely comfortable with the idea of the two sharing a bed every night, but it now seemed so natural that he found the idea of Grantaire being left alone at night to be worrying.

 

“I wouldn’t want to make a nuisance of myself.”

 

“Doesn’t bother me, I’ll be at work all night. I pulled the graveyard shift again,” she made a face, “Just don’t make me have to wash the bed sheets tomorrow.”

 

For her part, Éponine had been quite hostile to Enjolras at first, not entirely convinced that the ‘emotionless marble statue’ as she had labelled him could be so easily swayed by Grantaire’s dubious charms (“Let’s face it, ‘Aire; you have a borderline personality disorder and abysmal people skills”). But she had come around, especially after learning that Enjolras was singularly unlikely to be taking sexual advantage of Grantaire, and even more so when Enjolras had given her an entire ring binder of free legal advice about Gavroche’s stay in juvy, and her potential custody claims for Azelma and their two youngest brothers, all of whom were currently housed in different foster homes.

 

“Well in that case…” Enjolras reached down and brushed a stray curl off Grantaire’s forehead, smiling affectionately, “I might run back to my place to grab some books, that way I can get some work done as well. Do you guys need anything?”

 

It was a loaded question and they both knew it; Enjolras’ first sleepover in the tiny, squalid flat had been a marathon of poorly concealed horror at the conditions that Grantaire and Éponine lived in so indifferently. The next few stays had resulted in arguments when Enjolras had demanded they allow him to improve their quality of life with his spare capital; they had both steadfastly refused with the stubbornness of injured pride. Since then he had learned to be a bit more subtle, and offering to pick up groceries had become an unspoken code between the three of them.

 

“Well if you’re going to the shops anyway,” - _he wasn’t_ \- “Would you mind picking up some fags,” - _he would_ \- “Some coffee, instant noodles, baked beans, and a bottle of gin?”

 

Enjolras’ raised eyebrow prompted Éponine to clarify, “Me, ‘Chetta, and Cosette are having a girl’s night out tomorrow. Don’t worry, he won’t see a drop of it.”

 

By the time Grantaire woke up, Éponine had left for work and Enjolras had been out and come back again. The student was elbow deep in a week’s worth of dirty dishes, having been unable to face eating dinner in a kitchen so encrusted with filth – he had been close friends with Joly for too many years to ignore bad hygiene.

 

Grantaire sidled up to him with a sleepy grin and wrapped his arms around Enjolras’ waist from behind as the blonde grunted, “You owe me.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For washing enough dishes for a small army to eat off, for picking up a fortnight’s worth of groceries – including your cigarettes – and for ordering pizza for dinner, _your_ favourite, not mine.”

 

Grantaire smirked at Enjolras’ faux petulance, “Whatever can I do to repay you, oh magnanimous one?”

 

“You can let me do my work in peace for the rest of the night,” grumbled Enjolras, allowing the sink to drain as he rinsed the last of the plates clean.

 

“If you’d wanted to do your work in peace tonight you would have snuck out when you had the chance,” smirked Grantaire, “But you’re still here…” his fingers were tracing lazy circles over Enjolras’ hipbones, brushing lightly beneath the hem of his shirt and teasing bare skin.

 

Enjolras sighed heavily and said again, “You owe me.”

 

Grantaire grinned wickedly, “Well I can think of lots of ways to make it up to you.”

 

“Down boy,” Enjolras said firmly, but he spent the rest of the night unable to focus on his essay, instead googling various terms such as ‘dominant’, ‘submissive’, ‘bondage’, ‘spanking’, and bookmarking fetish websites.


End file.
